Sorting
by the iz
Summary: Sorting is one of the most important moments in a young witch or wizard's life, and it is never quite the same for any two children. Series of one-shots showing the sorting of each member of the HP nextgen. Nearly totally canon-compliant. Some OCs added in. Some shipping. Basically a shrine to my own obsessive nextgen headcanons. Rated for some low key adult references. Please R&R!
1. Intro

**Hello!**

 **OK, I wasn't writing anything for ages but then I got into 'Supernatural' and discovered my actual (for real this time) OTP in Destiel. This inspired me to start writing again and now that I'm back in the groove, I figure it's time I FINALLY publish this looooong series of one-shots which I've been re-editing for like 18 months now. Seriously, it's gotten ridiculous.**

 **This series is all about my personal vision of the nextgen. I feel very strongly about my HCs and I love my versions of the characters very much. However, I'm really open to hearing opposing opinions and visions of them. If you like or dislike my ideas on the nextgen, tell me! I'd love to hear your thoughts and how they're different or similar to mine. No hateful or offensive comments, though.**

 **Each one-shot looks at the sorting of each character and they're in order of age. I have chucked a couple of OCs in there. I tried to work some of my general HP HCs in too. This fic is such a self-indulgent ramble but I hope that other people are as obsessed with nextgen as me! Feel free to skip characters or only read your faves.**

 **It was all canon-compliant when I started but since then Rowling has blessed us with some tidbits of info concerning the nextgen. Some of that stuff ended up conflicting with my HCs. I decided not to change my fic to reflect the new canon. It's only a couple of things anyway, I can't even remember what.**

 **I know the wand thing is really nerdy of me but ummm I don't care. I researched the hell out of that.**

 **To keep track of ages, here is an ordered list of how old all the characters are at the time of the DH epilogue:**

 **Teddy: 19  
Victoire: 17  
Abby: 14  
Molly: 14  
James: 13  
Dom: 12  
Fred: 12  
Scorpius: 11  
Albus: 11  
Rose: 11  
Lucy: 10  
Lily: 9  
Hugo: 9  
Louis: 8  
Roxy: 8  
Lorcan: 5  
Lysander: 5  
Daisy:3**

 **I really hope you enjoy some/all of these and PLEASE review, it makes my day :D**


	2. Teddy Lupin

**_Irrelevant Character Note (ICN): I imagine that usually, and especially as he gets older, Teddy is super chill. Like a stoner without the weed. Possibly with the weed, later on in school. Let's be honest._**

 _HAIR: varies; originally dark brown, frequently turquoise._

 _EYES: varies; originally grey-blue._

 _WAND: chestnut, phoenix feather, eleven inches._

Teddy Lupin felt his stomach flutter as the girl in front of him was called to be Sorted. She walked forward with tense shoulders and clenched fists, mirroring the way that Teddy was feeling. He'd been excited and happy on the train, even on the little boats on the lake, but now... It suddenly seemed so real. His godfather Harry had come with Teddy's Nanna to see him off and their pride and confidence had boosted him through the journey here, but nothing could now distract Teddy from the fact that he was alone, in an unfamiliar place, with an uncertain future.

The girl in front was placed into Slytherin and Teddy's name was called. He tried not to stumble as he edged towards the ragged, ominous-looking hat drooping from Professor Sprout's arthritic fingers. He swallowed and concentrated on keeping his hair brown and his skin flesh-coloured, knowing his tendency to morph randomly when under stress. Despite being generally outgoing, Teddy didn't enjoy being in any kind of spotlight and the hundreds of eyes he could feel upon him as he reached the little stool next to Sprout made him want to turn invisible. Unfortunately, that was not possible even for a metamorphmagus. Perhaps he should have nicked his godfather's prized cloak.

He clambered onto the stool and turned to face the crowded Great Hall. It was even more majestic than his Nanna had told him; the clear night sky above glittered with stars that made the many floating candles seem almost pointless. The beauty of the ceiling couldn't distract him from the sea of faces below it, though. The hum of chatter in the hall had hushed slightly when his name had been called out, but now it was rising even louder than before as students pointed him out and murmured all the things that marked him out from the other first-years: he was the orphaned child of war heroes, son of an actual werewolf, practically adopted by the great Harry Potter… and even cooler than that, it was rumoured that he could change his appearance at will! Teddy closed his eyes to block it out as the fabled Sorting Hat was placed on his head. The voices died down again, only to be replaced by a different one inside his mind.

"Feeling a bit terrified, eh?"

Teddy jumped, fingers gripping the edge of the wooden stool. He was glad the hat was covering his head because he was sure his hair had gone purple out of surprise. He opened his mouth to answer but then changed his mind, nodding instead. The friendly little voice chuckled.

"I get that a lot. Still, perhaps we can rule out Gryffindor."

Teddy's face fell. He had been hoping for Gryffindor because his father had been in that house, not to mention practically all of his adopted family. As much as he loved his Nanna, he had never liked the sound of her house… in fact, as much as Nanna was a proud Slytherin she had never spoken very fondly of it either. There was no way he was smart enough for Ravenclaw, so that was right out of the cauldron. Gryffindor, though, with its majestic lion and history of greatness and bravery… what eleven-year-old boy wouldn't want to be in Gryffindor?

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" whispered the Hat. Teddy shrugged. He liked Hufflepuff well enough and he knew full well that it wasn't a house of losers like people said. After all, not only his heroic mother but also his grandfather, whose image was framed in almost every room of his Nanna's home and whose name was shared with Teddy himself, had been in Hufflepuff. But Gryffindor…

"I can put you in Gryffindor if you really want it," sighed the Hat, sounding suddenly a little annoyed. "But if you ask me, you'd do well in Hufflepuff. You're kind, thoughtful and steadfast and I fear that you'd feel out of step with the other Gryffindors. What's it to be, Lupin?"

Teddy stared down at his hands, which he'd clasped in his lap. His fingernails shimmered neon orange at him and he frowned as he made them go bright red, then vivid yellow. If he went into Hufflepuff, surely the rest of the family would be in Gryffindor and he'd be even more the odd one out than he already was. Who would be a Hufflepuff with him? Mischievous little James wouldn't be, Fred most definitely wouldn't be and neither would the precocious Molly. Everyone else was too young to tell, really. Maybe Vic… sweet, pretty Victoire, whom they only saw a few times a year as her family spent most of the summer holidays in France. He didn't know about little Dominique but Victoire could definitely be in Hufflepuff. He'd always gotten on well with Vic and it was only two years until she would be at Hogwarts too. Nodding to himself, he whispered a word to the Hat and tensed as it delightedly echoed it to the whole hall:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"


	3. Victoire Weasley

**ICN: I ship Victoire and Teddy so hard and I think they end up marrying and having kids and being super trendy parents who make all the other parents jealous.**

 _HAIR: light blonde._

 _EYES: dark blue._

 _WAND: beech, unicorn hair, ten and a quarter inches._

Victoire Weasley smoothed down her neat robes and tucked a silky lock of hair behind her ear as she inched forward in the line of first-years. She couldn't quite stop the wide grin that formed across her face; she was finally here! No more worrying about whether she would be sent to Beauxbatons or Hogwarts, no more jealously watching Teddy pretend to duel invisible monsters with his wand at Christmas and enviously listening to his stories about midnight feasts and secret tunnels at Easter. She stroked her own wand, tucked into the pocket of her robes. She could hardly wait to start practicing with it.

She stepped forward another space as another student was Sorted into Ravenclaw, her excitement mounting. Victoire wasn't certain which house she would be in and she didn't particularly care, because she was sure she would settle in anywhere. One advantage of being both strikingly beautiful and effortlessly charming was that she made friends wherever she went. Victoire liked people, it was as simple as that. She had inherited her mother's flawless looks and her father's irresistible charisma, with excellent results.

She wouldn't have minded going to Beauxbatons either, really, except for the fact that she had no cousins going there. Her twin cousins on her mother's side, Philibert and Clémence, were only a few months old so that was no good to her. Here at Hogwarts she would have a steady stream of Weasley cousins to keep her company, as well as a ready-made friend in Teddy. Her sister and brother were too young to join her at Hogwarts until she was much older; Dom was six and Louis was just two. Vic adored her siblings but she was quite looking forward to spending some time away from them. Dom was an absolute terror, always jumping out from doorways and tugging on her older sister's hair. Louis was a quiet, tractable child, but he was already showing signs of magic. Victoire's parents were extremely preoccupied with their two younger children.

Plus, despite her excellent French, Vic definitely felt more at home speaking English. She had learned both languages in equal fluency throughout her childhood, with her Maman using French sporadically around the house and even Papa exclaiming it once in a while, much to Maman's amusement. Her grandparents refused to speak English when their daughter brought her family to visit every year, resulting in Victoire having to start every school year with a slight French accent from having spent weeks only speaking her mother's native language. In the extended Weasley family, though, English was the only language used, as at the specialist Wizarding primary school she had attended in Somerset.

Only one person was left standing in front of her now. Victoire let her eyes drift across to the teachers' table, where she caught the eye of Professor Longbottom, looking conspicuously young amongst his colleagues as he was only her Uncle Ron's age. He winked at her and she beamed back at him, remembering back to less than a week beforehand when he had joined them at the annual end-of-the-summer feast at the Burrow, along with his wife Hannah. He had sat opposite Vic at the table and informed her that he was starting at Hogwarts at the same time as her, albeit as a teacher, replacing the retired Professor Sprout. He had gotten her to promise that they would look out for one another and although she was well aware that he was just being nice - and as an ex-auror, certainly didn't need looking out for by an eleven-year-old girl - she had happily agreed.

Her attention snapped back to the Sorting Hat as she realised that the boy in front of her was gone. She watched him walk hesitantly to the stool and lower himself down next to Professor Vector. The hat was on his head for less than ten seconds before it pronounced him a Gryffindor. Victoire lifted her chin with an unconscious air of pride and grace courtesy of her Veela heritage; it was her turn.

She was walking forward even as Vector read out her name, pronouncing it perfectly, which prompted a pleased smile from Victoire. She made sure to carry herself well, remembering the deportment lessons her Mémé had given her during the holidays. As she turned to seat herself daintily on the stool, her sapphire eyes sought out the one familiar face in the room, finding it straight away as it was topped with a shock of tennis ball green curls. Teddy gave her the thumbs-up as she sat down and she beamed back at him, unsurprised that his hair had changed from being short and light blue on the train. There was a space next to him. Maybe she could sit there if she got into his house.

The Hat brushed her hair as it was lowered. She prepared herself for the little voice in her head but to her surprise, the garment barely touched her head before it gave its verdict:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"


	4. Abigail Dursley

_**WARNING: This character is linked with references to alcohol abuse, domestic conflict and anxiety/depression. Please take care if these are topics which may upset you.**_

 **ICN: I do see Abby as being somebody who finds it hard to feel good about herself, who feels stressed and overwhelmed most of the time and struggles to keep her chin up despite constantly trying. Depression and anxiety are so much more common than they're made out to be. They're not weird, they're all too normal and it takes a special kind of bravery to keep fighting that internal battle, especially when there might be external troubles too. As we say in the SPN fandom: Always Keep Fighting :)**

 _HAIR: brown._

 _EYES: hazel._

 _WAND: willow, unicorn hair, ten inches._

Abigail Dursley reached yet again into the wand pocket inside her robe, clutching the precious stick of willow wood inside. She gulped as she stared ahead at the dusty old hat perched on the stool. It seemed to be staring at her, into her, judging her, finding her lacking. She was always lacking.

Abby shook her head, frowning. She mustn't think like that. Her school counsellor Jo had given her clear instructions for when she began thinking about how useless and stupid she was; she must find something to hold onto and focus on that. Abby knew that Jo had meant to find an idea to hold onto, a positive thought, but now that she had her wand Abby liked to hold onto that. It always felt warm to her touch and it comforted her.

She'd been so shocked when the letter had arrived. She knew about magic already. Mum was supposed to have magic, but she'd been born without it, and that was why Abby didn't have any grandparents on that side of the family. Abby knew that her Mum was really sad about not having magic, and so she'd thought that Mum would be happy about the letter. She'd thought it might be Dad who was upset; his parents, Abby's Grandma and Grandad, didn't like magic very much.

But it was all mixed up. Dad had been excited and kept telling her how lucky she was, whilst Mum had barely said anything to for the whole day after the letter had arrived. Abby had heard her parents arguing that night, curled up against her door with her old toy pig that her Uncle Harry had bought for her as a baby. Mum had gotten drunk and started screaming and crying at Dad. She hadn't done that for ages. Late that night, after Mum had stopped shouting and fallen asleep, Abby heard the worst sound of all; Dad was crying in the bathroom.

Abby wished she'd never gotten the letter.

Things had gotten better after that and Mum had tried to act happy for Abby. They'd gone to Diagon Alley, which they hardly ever did any more, and Mum had bought Abby a pretty set of pink dress robes. But Abby just wanted to go home. Getting her wand was the only part of that day which she'd enjoyed.

The person behind her muttered for her to move, startling her. Abby shuffled forward, thinking about the 'cousins' she'd been invited to sit with on the train: Molly and Victoire. Abby had liked Victoire a lot. She was a few years older but pretty and extremely friendly and kind. She'd referred to Abby as her cousin, even though they weren't related by blood and they'd never met before. She'd been nicer than Molly. Molly was starting her first year at Hogwarts too, yet she didn't seem even slightly nervous. When Abby had confessed how anxious she felt, Molly had looked at her like she was mad. Still, maybe they could be friends. Abby needed a friend. And if Molly wouldn't be her friend, she still had Victoire.

She located Victoire at the black and yellow table, the house with the badger symbol. She was sat next to the cute boy with the changing hair who'd stopped by their compartment on the train. Teddy, his name was. He'd sauntered in, his hair in golden waves, and ruffled Molly's neat bob cut as he'd sat down. She'd looked so outraged that even Abby had giggled out loud. Teddy had looked at her and smiled, sticking out his hand.

"It's Abigail, right? I'm Teddy Lupin, your Uncle Harry's godson."

Abby had blushed and slowly, hesitantly, reached out to shake his hand.

"Uncle Harry is my godfather too", she'd whispered, not quite meeting his eye. Teddy had given her hand a squeeze and let go.

"No kidding! He didn't tell me that! Welcome to the club, Abigail."

Abby had smiled, feeling a little more confident. "You can call me Abby if you want. Are you Victoire's boyfriend?"

She had known immediately that she'd said the wrong thing. Teddy looked thunderstruck and Vic had gone bright pink. There had been a moment of deep silence before Molly piped up:

"Have you read that silly article too? It's not true. Rita Skeeter is a liar. My Daddy says that she should be sacked for making up things about children. As if Vic and Teddy would be kissing at the World Cup! Or anywhere!"

Teddy had leapt up suddenly, his hair tinged the same pink as Victoire's cheeks.

"Yeah, it's pretty lame that Skeeter couldn't even find a real story to cover. Anyway... See you guys at the feast! See you, Vic."

He'd swept out of the compartment without looking at anyone, and Abby had hardly said a word since. Trust her to make things awkward. She hadn't read any article, she'd only seen the way Vic smiled at Teddy when he walked in.

Abby gripped her wand tighter as the boy in front was called up. She barely had time to draw in a deep breath before the Hat yelled one of the house names and the boy skittered off to the red and gold table. Abby hadn't even thought about which house she'd be in. She swallowed, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Her name was called and she stumbled forward, helpless. She was barely aware of sitting on the seat, and her head was swimming too much for her to listen to the strange voice that echoed in her mind. She closed her eyes against the tears, lips pressed together, hunched forward, and only opened them again when the voice cried out loud a single word:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	5. Molly Weasley II

**ICN: I'm not sure but I think Molly ends up being Minister for Magic in the future. Actually... I'm pretty damn sure.**

 _HAIR: red._

 _EYES: blue._

 _WAND: ebony, dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches._

Molly Weasley pushed her glasses up her freckled nose as she gazed around the Great Hall with interest. She had been watching, constantly watching, from the moment she had extricated herself from her parents' arms on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Drawing herself up in front of her impossibly proud father, the short but fearless little girl had saluted him solemnly, receiving an equally solemn response before he had caught her up in a tight hug.

"Learn lots, Molly, and be good," he had whispered into her mop of short, thick hair, before passing her to the rather tearful woman next to him. Molly had hugged her mother and her silent, pixie-like little sister with real affection, but that didn't mean she couldn't wait to get onto the train.

She'd sat with Victoire and poor, shy Abigail Dursley for the train journey. Abby was a bit like Molly, plain and not generally liked or included by other children. However, where Molly was energetic and decisive, Abby was quiet and lacked confidence. None of Molly's family except Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny and their children had met the Dursley girl before Abigail had received her Hogwarts letter out of the blue, but Uncle Harry was keen for them all to welcome his cousin's daughter into the fold. Molly had heard her parents discussing the situation; apparently, Abby's Dad Dudley was a muggle and he'd married a squib, Gloria, whom he'd met whilst staying with Uncle Harry and visiting Diagon Alley. No one had expected Dudley and Gloria's child to be magical, so the Hogwarts letter had been a shock for everyone. Molly thought that Abby might look a bit happier about it; at least she didn't have to attend a boring muggle high school.

The trip across the lake had been fantastic, like something out of a Beedle the Bard story, although some irritating boy by the name of Finnigan had kept leaving scorch marks on the bench with his wand and teasing her when she huffed in disapproval. Molly had promised herself that she would practice her hexing skills on him once she knew some good ones.

She tore her eyes away from the runes carved into the stone mantelpiece of the fireplace nearby, suddenly aware that there were only two people left waiting in front of her. Glancing out across the four house tables, Molly's eyes fell upon the Gryffindor table. Abby had been Sorted into that house but she'd looked so pale and sick that Madam Pomfrey had taken her into an antechamber to lie down until Sorting was finished. Molly couldn't understand how the Hat had mistaken her for a lion. She had no idea what the silly girl was so frightened of anyway, but Vic had glared at her when she'd said so out loud on the train. Victoire and Teddy were sitting next to each other at the Hufflepuff table. Teddy might have had neon pink hair but Vic was even more luminous, her childhood prettiness transforming slowly into an otherworldly loveliness as she floated through her fourteenth year.

An article had been published over the summer which claimed that Teddy and Victoire had been kissing a lot at the Quidditch World Cup. Molly hadn't been there but she'd asked Victoire if the article's claims were true and Vic had looked mortified, instantly denying that anything was going on between her and her best friend. Molly sniffed in disapproval. That Rita Skeeter lady was a liar and lying was simply wrong. Besides, the article had caused a tension between Vic and Teddy which was awkward to behold. Vic was playing with her hair, frowning, and Teddy appeared intensely focused upon chatting flirtatiously with a giggling brunette on his other side, his Prefect badge sloppily pinned sideways to his robes. Molly narrowed her eyes. If she were ever lucky enough to be made Prefect, she would keep her badge polished and straight all the time; Daddy would be so proud.

She scowled as she watched Vic absentmindedly plaiting her shimmering hair. She was a rather plain girl herself and mostly this didn't bother her, but she always got a little bit jealous looking at her beautiful part-Veela cousins. Even her own spindly little sister was a pretty thing, just like their mother with soft blonde hair and wide, dark green eyes; but that wasn't so bad because Lucy was annoying and generally rather weird, in Molly's opinion. If only Vic were easier to dislike. At that moment, Victoire looked up and gave a beatific smile as she saw that Molly was second in line to be Sorted; dropping the plait, she gave a double thumbs-up to her younger cousin before nudging Teddy and muttering something to him. He looked up and beamed at Molly, echoing the thumbs-up gesture. The little girl grinned despite herself and looked back at the Hat as the girl in front of her, Esmeralda Warrington, strode forward. There was a moment of hesitation before the Hat decided on Slytherin. The girl grinned and hopped off, practically skipping to her cheering table.

Molly started as 'Weasley, Molly' was called and she stepped forward, staring reverently at the old hat Professor Vector was holding. It hung limply from her light grip, looking deceptively inanimate. Molly smirked to herself as she slid onto the stool; she knew for a fact that she was going into Ravenclaw. She was clever and curious. Hufflepuff simply wasn't an option, she was sure that she was too much of a Weasley for Slytherin, and as for Gryffindor… well, she wasn't enough of a Weasley for Gryffindor.

She thrummed with confidence as the Hat was dropped onto her head, waiting for the ancient artefact to pronounce her a Ravenclaw through and through. Her mouth dropped open as the Hat's equally confident voice rang out:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	6. James Potter II

**ICN: In my HC James has ADD/ADHD and can therefore come across as quite obnoxious and difficult but like his namesake, he just has some growing up and slowing down to do and he's really quite a sweetheart.**

 _HAIR: black._

 _EYES: brown._

 _WAND: spruce, phoenix feather, twelve and three quarter inches._

James Potter stuck his tongue out at his stern-faced cousin as he progressed another few steps in the line of first-years be Sorted, shoving his sticky hands deeper into his pockets. Molly stared back, unimpressed, but he could see the crossness lurking behind her calm expression. Her light blue eyes, seething with irritation, betrayed her. She didn't hate him, exactly, but James knew that if she could pick one person to be her only cousin in her house for her second year, it would definitely not be him. There was no chance that he would be Sorted anywhere but Gryffindor and the knowledge grated on her as much as it delighted him.

He grinned, gleeful at the thought of the pranks he would play on Molly and her undoubtedly stuck-up friends. He could definitely get his Dad's weirdo goddaughter Abigail, too; she was sat opposite Molly and she looked like she'd scare easily. Maybe a giant jelly spider, one of the twitching ones, on her breakfast dish. The possibilities were endless. If only Fred were here with him. One more year and they would be together in Gryffindor, an unstoppable force of chaos. Not to mention Dom, who was pretty cool for a girl and was surely a textbook lion too. The Three Musketeers, like in the muggle story.

He had already tried to buy a red and yellow scarf in Diagon Alley, instead of getting his parents to send one after he'd been Sorted like most children did. Scoffing at his father's concerned expression, he had waved aside his mother's worry that he was setting himself up for disappointment if he didn't get into Gryffindor.

"I know you're sure, sweetheart, but don't you think it'd be better to just wait and see?"

"It doesn't have to Gryffindor," his Dad had chimed in. Mum had nodded her head in agreement. James had rolled his eyes and tossed the scarf into the basket following them around Malkin's, narrowly missing hitting his little sister in the face.

"Just because Al's going to be in Slytherin doesn't mean all your kids are going to be disappointments," he had said matter-of-factly, ignoring the horrified look on his younger brother's face. Dad's usually kind green eyes had flashed in anger then. Needless to say, James had not received his customary sundae at Fortescue's. Or the scarf.

He hadn't meant to bring Albus into it at all, but it was always hard not to where his Dad was concerned. Albus was practically a Mini-Me of Harry, earnest and determined and stubborn, and looked just like him too. Right down to the bloody glasses and the faintly olive-toned skin, where James had inherited his mother's perfect vision and her lighter, freckled complexion. Albus and their father got on so well that James, loud and brash and even more hot-tempered than his fiery mother, continually felt like the third wheel. It wasn't as though his father didn't try, though. And when it was just the two of them, practicing Quidditch passes in the garden or teasing Mum until she threatened to hex them both, everything was great. But Albus –unwittingly of course – always seemed to stumble in and immediately claim their father's attention. At least Albus couldn't be called Harry's favourite, thought James with a touch of dark humour; Lily, the ultimate Daddy's Girl, could boast that title.

James shook his head, aware that he was scowling. He had better things to think about than his wimpy little brother, or his even wimpier little sister. Casting his eyes over the rest of the Gryffindor table, he amused himself for a time imagining what pranks he might play on whom, as well as picking out the girls he thought were the prettiest. He snorted as he followed several of the boys' gazes across to the Hufflepuff table, where Victoire was giggling with her friends, brand new Prefect badge gleaming on her robes. Teddy, who wore a matching badge, was looking studiously bored and achingly cool next to her, with his messy turquoise hair and his tiny silver hoop on the outer shell of one ear. He was glancing at Vic frequently, being overly casual if she spoke to him. It was clear to the whole family that finally, after years of obliviousness and then denial, it had dawned on Teddy that he was best friends with the most gorgeous young woman he was likely ever to meet.

James had to admit that he himself would probably be mesmerised by Vic too if she wasn't his annoyingly maternal cousin and all that his silly little sister twittered on about; Lily adored Victoire. At fifteen the willowy young woman was somehow even more stunning than her mother, despite the Veela blood being more diluted in her veins. He supposed it was some kind of throwback. His eyes wandered back to the Gryffindor table to a decidedly less enchanting sight: Abby Dursley. James had only met his distant cousin twice before she'd gotten a surprise Hogwarts letter, but she'd been around to visit three times during the summer, only once with her parents. Her father was his Dad's cousin and even though the two of them got on fairly well, James knew about his Dad's unpleasant childhood with the Dursleys. Mum didn't much like Dudley, or his skittish squib wife; James had overheard her telling Dad so. Dad had replied that Dudley had changed a lot and pointed out that they were godparents to Abby. For some reason, Dad seemed really protective of sad-eyed, soft-voiced, hunch-shouldered Abigail.

James jumped to attention as Professor Vector called his name. Stepping forward, he gave a silly little bow as the Hall swept with whispers about his father. As he straightened up he saw Vic shaking her head with amusement whilst Teddy grinned wolfishly; Molly was scowling as usual, but Abby was wearing a faint smile. He sauntered up to the stool and hopped onto it with ease, beaming at Professor Longbottom at the teachers' table. His self-assured smile only grew as the Hat barely brushed his head before booming out its confirmation:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	7. Dominique Weasley

**ICN: I see Dom as a black sheep as she gets older: piercings, tattoos, swearing in class, partying, flirting with everyone, dyed and chopped off hair, always sneaking out, the whole deal. The kid her Dad wished he could've been if he'd cut loose a bit more. Also I definitely see her as bi.**

 _HAIR: strawberry blonde._

 _EYES: blue._

 _WAND: cedar, dragon heartstring, nine and three quarter inches._

Dominique Weasley tossed her reddish gold hair impatiently as the latest first-year on the stool, a quaking, muttering boy by the name of Thomas Edgecombe, passed the three-minute mark under the Sorting Hat. She had heard a girl not far behind her whispering that if he got to five minutes he would be the first Hatstall in twelve years. Dom grimaced, thinking how nerve-wracking it would be to have the Hat so uncertain about deciding your fate. She had long since decided that she would simply tell the Hat to put her in Gryffindor as soon as it was placed on her head. Surely that was where she belonged anyway.

Glancing across at the red and gold table, Dom caught James' gaze and jerked her head towards the Edgecombe boy, rolling her eyes. James nodded, plainly getting twitchy with boredom as he was slowly skewering the table with a fork. Using the fork as a prop, he mimed holding a wand to his own throat and flailing backwards from a curse, his exaggerated movements drawing a scathing look from their cousin Molly a few seats down. Dom tried and failed to stop a smile spreading across her flawless features at the thought of Molly's dismay when both herself and Fred were sorted into Gryffindor too. Anything that annoyed their pompous, wannabe Ravenclaw cousin was OK with her.

Turning, she nudged Fred, distracting him from sneaking every-flavour beans from his pocket into his mouth.

"Molly looks about as happy as if she's just drank bubotuber pus. Reminds me of that time we tricked her into eating a whole handful of your Dad's Sourpuss Sherbet. Remember?"

Fred's mobile face split into a wide grin. Despite his brown skin, eyes and curls, he was the spitting image of his father when conducting or reminiscing about mischief. He opened his mouth to reply but at that moment, the Sorting Hat reached a decision and proclaimed the visibly relieved Edgecombe boy a Ravenclaw. Dom shuffled forward as the next person was called up.

She could feel eyes on her and, sighing impatiently, she turned and raised her eyebrows at her sister, who was craning her swan-like neck to watch her anxiously from the Hufflepuff table. Vic had been even worse than usual over the holidays, insisting on dragging Dom to Diagon Alley at least three times and spending half the money from her summer job on an expensive kit of potions instruments and a pretty set of dress robes for her little sister. Dom didn't intend to wear the dress robes and had no particular interest in Potions, but had learned that it was best to just let Vic do her mothering without protest; she usually got free sweets and Quidditch magazines out of it. Not that Vic had to pay for half the things she picked up in shops if the store assistant was male.

She smirked as her eyes fell on the empty seat next to Victoire, where she knew Teddy usually sat each year. Vic kept looking at it slightly mournfully; Dom knew that she hadn't been looking forward to starting her first Teddy-free year at Hogwarts. He wouldn't even be in the country soon because he was taking a 'gap year', a muggle idea. He was going to visit Uncle Charlie in his adopted home of Romania and then go travelling around Europe with his godparents' friend Luna for a while, helping her in her work as a naturalist assisting her husband Rolf. Dom figured he'd end up babysitting more than anything; Luna and Rolf had twin four-year-olds. The previous week, at the annual Burrow get-together, he had stuttered and muttered his way through Dom's and Fred's teasing about Vic having a crush on him, which was made up on the spot but probably true anyway. It was amusing, but pathetic, Dom decided. She would never get as worked up about boys as Teddy Lupin clearly was about her sister.

She was wrenched from her musings by her name being called. Shooting a scornful look at Vic, who looked like she was about to burst with pride and tension, Dom strolled confidently up to the stool and waited expectantly for the Sorting Hat to be placed upon her head. She didn't even flinch as the knowing voice sounded inside her mind.

"Well, well, we certainly have a textbook Weasley here, don't we?"

Dom smiled grimly.

"Red hair, freckles, wicked sense of humour, buckets of courage… all this, yet I'm not sure if I want to put you in Gryffindor."

The smile dropped.

"It's not that you don't have a lot of Gryffindor traits," continued the Hat. "It's purely that you would make an excellent Slytherin."

"No!" she hissed, clenching her fists in her lap.

"Why not? You're cunning, conniving, you like to get your own way and you have strong ideas."

Dom felt like she might cry. This was exactly what she had subconsciously feared. This was exactly what she was determined to stop from happening. She belonged in Gryffindor, curse it!

"Gryffindor," she whispered desperately. "Please."

The Hat hummed in consideration. Finally, after what must have been thirty seconds of Dom silently begging and the Hat telling her to shush and let it think, it reached a decision.

"I do think you belong in Slytherin. But if you want to be in Gryffindor badly enough… well, you're certainly the kind of person who can make it work out in your favour. Are you sure?"

"Yes," Dom breathed, trembling slightly on the stool. There was a small pause before she let out a gasp of relief as the Hat shouted:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	8. Fred Weasley II

**ICN: I think that Fred would pretty much accept from early childhood that he is taking over WWW some day; luckily I think this suits him down to the ground so he'd leave Hogwarts and go straight into the shop. He'd play music at the Leaky on Saturday nights though.**

 _HAIR: dark brown._

 _EYES: dark brown._

 _WAND: dogwood, unicorn hair, eleven inches._

Fred Weasley stared absentmindedly at the almost luminous strawberry tresses of his cousin in front of him. She was exactly his height, which was gratifying because up until a month or two ago she had always been taller than him. The height difference didn't change her slightly imperious attitude and competitive nature, though. If she wasn't such a mastermind at pranking, he and James would never put up with her.

Thinking of his favourite cousin, Fred's liquid gaze wandered across to the Gryffindor table. James was messing around with his fork, twirling it into the wooden table with an absolute disregard for the wellbeing of the furniture. Fred grinned as he saw the empty seat next to his cousin. He was sure that James had been doing an admirable job without him, but mischief couldn't really be managed properly without the genetic influence of the infamous Weasley twins. Luckily, Fred lived up to all the expectations that being the child of George Weasley created. His faintly freckled cheeks dimpled with delight as he thought about the havoc that he, James and Dom would create in their soon-to-be common room, utilising the bag of Wheezes products that his Dad had slipped him before he'd boarded the train. No Mum or Grandma or Aunt Fleur - or in fact anyone - foiling their plans! Excellent.

He snuck a glance at Professor Vector, who had been watching the line of first-years with intense suspicion between placing the Sorting Hat on students' heads. Her attention was diverted, however, as she looked at her watch, a frown line between her thin black eyebrows. The boy on the stool – Fred hadn't been paying attention so he didn't know his name – was looking extremely anxious, having been under the Hat for a good three minutes. Fred took the opportunity to sneak an every-flavour bean from his robe pocket, grimacing as he chewed his way through a sickeningly salty seawater flavoured one. Grabbing another one, he brought it to his lips just as Dom turned and dug her sharp elbow into his arm, a gleam in her sky blue eyes.

"Molly looks about as happy as if she's just drank bubotuber pus. Reminds me of that time we tricked her into eating a whole handful of your Dad's Sourpuss Sherbet. Remember?"

Fred did remember and the memory made him smile widely. Molly wasn't nasty or mean, particularly, but she took after her father in the most dreadful way. Uncle Perce – as George had taught his children to address an unamused Percy – was easily the least fun of Fred's many adult relatives. Even the slightly snobbish Aunt Fleur was more of a laugh than him. And Molly, prudish and often ill-tempered and not at all afraid to run and tell the grown-ups, had been the bane of her young cousins' childhoods, with the result that she became a major target for their practical joking. Fred opened his mouth to ask Dom if she had any of the sherbet in her trunk but the Sorting Hat broke its silence at that moment, Sorting the boy on the stool into Ravenclaw. Dom swung back around at the distraction, almost hitting Fred in the face with her curtain of perfectly wavy hair. He shrugged and popped the almost-forgotten every-flavour bean into his mouth as the line inched forward, sighing with relief when the warm taste of malted milk spread over his tongue.

Still thinking of the oh-so-prank-able Molly, Fred turned back towards the Gryffindor table and saw that she was alternating between shooting annoyed looks at James from behind her owlish glasses and watching himself and Dom. Hurriedly looking away before she could catch his eye, Fred located Victoire at the Hufflepuff table and watched in amusement as she polished her Prefect badge with her sleeve, silvery blue eyes darting up frequently to monitor her sister. She had been so pleased last year when she had received the badge in the post, proudly showing it off to their grandparents at the annual Burrow gathering. Teddy had immediately engaged her in conversation about the pros and cons of the role, chivalrously offering his guidance if need be. Fred highly doubted that Vic needed any kind of guidance, as she was an obvious choice for Prefect and would probably make Head Girl too, but she had seemed intensely interested nonetheless. Girls were just odd like that, Fred decided. At least he himself would never have the dishonour of a Prefect badge, although he had a horrible feeling that his disappointingly un-mischievous little sister, Roxy, might be in danger.

His wandering attention snapped back to the Sorting Hat as 'Weasley, Dominique' was called. Stepping forward into place at the front of the line, Fred saw his cousin all but pull the Hat onto her head herself. He smirked at her typical boldness. As he watched, though, the smile fell from her face. Fred frowned as his cousin's expression twisted, looking unusually upset. She mouthed a denial, her small fists tense on her knees. Shooting a glance at the tables Fred saw Victoire sitting bolt upright, her distressed expression echoing her sister's. Feeling uncharacteristically anxious, he looked back at Dom and fidgeted slightly on the spot. His discomfort grew as the seconds ticked by, Dom's eyes screwed up, her slim ginger eyebrows drawn together in what seemed to be concentration. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the Hat proclaimed her a Gryffindor. Fred blew out his breath in a rush, laughing with relief as Dom hopped off the stool with a glowing smile. Of course she was in Gryffindor. Merlin knew what that had been about.

He walked up to the Hat even as Vector read out his name, his smile turning to a scowl as he saw Dom unapologetically take the seat James had been saving for him, totally ignoring her elder cousin's protests. Rolling his eyes, Fred felt the Hat settle on his head, unsurprised as it was whisked away a moment after immediately giving its verdict:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	9. Scorpius Malfoy

**ICN: I don't really see Astoria as being super snobby but I also don't see her as being THAT progressive, and Draco is Draco. So I think that Scorpius's upbringing would have been nice, but ultimately still quite traditional, pureblood superiority complex and all.**

 _HAIR: light blond._

 _EYES: grey._

 _WAND: elm, dragon heartstring, twelve and a quarter inches._

Scorpius Malfoy's dark silver eyes narrowed as he watched Damian Flint stomp his way up to Professor Vector. Damian was an utter troll, yes, but he was also the only friend Scorpius had in this school. He was a lot like Scorpius's Uncle Gregory, who was the thickest man he'd ever met. Sitting with Flint on the train had been mind-numbingly boring but still better than sitting alone and vulnerable, the only 'Death Eater Spawn' in his year. Flint was the only person on the train stupid enough to willingly hang out with the young Malfoy so if he didn't get into Slytherin, Scorpius was going to be very displeased indeed.

A smile curved the blond boy's pale lips as the Hat placed Flint in Slytherin. It wasn't much of a start, but it was a start nonetheless. With Flint onside he could start building up a social circle and begin the process of reinstating the Malfoys as worthy members of the Wizarding World. Scorpius was determined to make his father proud of their family once more, instead of perpetually worried that his son would be ostracised because of his surname. Perhaps it was a heavy task for an eleven-year-old, but Scorpius had felt nothing but proud when his usually mild-mannered mother had pulled him aside the previous week and instructed him to make sure he was popular and well-respected at Hogwarts, so that the other aristocratic children could take home favourable reports of the Malfoy child.

Twisting to watch his only friend plod to a seat at the green and silver table, Scorpius' eyes wandered back over the line of first-years behind him until they caught on a flash of bright red. The Weasley girl was staring at him, a calculating look on her tanned, ridiculously freckled face. Her flame-coloured hair was riotously messy, the voluminous waves and ringlets forming a wild cloud around her head and bouncing on her shoulders. A maroon velvet headband barely restrained – and clashed horribly with - the mass of colour threatening to tumble into her face. Scorpius disdainfully raised a light gold eyebrow at her, feeling uncomfortable with her perusal of his features. She blinked and blushed, clear blue eyes dropping to her neat black shoes. Satisfied with himself, Scorpius turned back to the front.

He must be sure to keep an eye on the Weasley girl… Rose, that was her name. She'd introduced herself at Hogsmeade station after she'd accidentally run straight into him, apparently being chased by an older-looking boy with untidy black hair and a wide grin. Stumbling back, Scorpius had said nothing but had glared at the girl when she'd immediately begun apologising.

"I'm so sorry, it's my cousin, he's such an idiot… oh. You're Scorpius Malfoy."

The older boy had shot Scorpius a look of deep mistrust and hovered behind his cousin protectively.

"Come on, Rose," he'd said loudly. "Al'll be having a panic attack if we don't find him before you have to get on the boats."

Rose hadn't even acknowledged his words but had given Scorpius, who was making an elaborate show of dusting himself off, a measuring look. Then she had stuck out her small hand, to Scorpius' surprise.

"My name's Rose Weasley and this-" she'd gestured behind her at the older boy "- is my cousin James Potter. It's nice to meet you."

Scorpius had shaken her hand gingerly, noting the warmth and softness of her skin and the complete lack of both in her words. She was still looking at him as if deciding how to cook him. He'd pulled his hand away and nodded slightly, aware that he couldn't afford to be anything but civil, even if his father had always spoken with barely-disguised scorn about the Weasley-Potter family.

He was jerked back to the present by a sharp poke in the back. Hurrying forward, his heart jumped nervously as he saw that he was only three places from the front of the line. Tapping his expensive shoes upon the worn stone floor, he wondered if the Hat would take long to put him in Slytherin. He guessed not. It was in his blood; besides, if the silly old thing tried to put him anywhere else he'd threaten it with an unravelling hex. He was sure he could do one if he tried, even if he hadn't used his wand yet. As long as he wasn't in Gryffindor, where the entire noxious Weasley-Potter clan undoubtedly resided. Although the Head Girl, so ethereally beautiful and luminous that he had briefly wondered if she was some kind of coloured ghost, had introduced herself at the station as Victoria Weasley or something like that and she had been a Hufflepuff.

One person to go. Scorpius smoothed back his hair as the boy in front of him was placed in Gryffindor, taking a deep breath before walking calmly forward even as Professor Vector called out his name. Ignoring the mutters that swept the vast room, he seated himself on the stool and kept his eyes fixed on the window at the opposite end of the hall. The Hat was as swift with its decision as Scorpius had been hoping.

"SLYTHERIN!"


	10. Albus Potter

**ICN: Not for any particular reason, but Albus in my head is ace/demisexual. Maybe because his namesake was celibate for most of his life, indicating that he was plausibly on the asexual/demisexual spectrum? Mostly I just think it fits him somehow.**

 _HAIR: black._

 _EYES: green._

 _WAND: hazel, unicorn hair, eleven and a quarter inches._

Albus Potter closed his eyes as the Malfoy boy was announced a Slytherin. He was the fourth first-year to be Sorted so and no matter how he told himself otherwise, Albus was convinced that he himself would go the same way.

He wasn't sure why he was so certain. There was nothing about him that marked him as a definite Slytherin; he wasn't particularly sly or calculating, nor was he interested in power or fame, despite having access to both through his highly influential parents. He supposed that he had a reluctant fascination with the Dark Arts, but merely to study; he had no desire to hurt anybody. And maybe he could be a bit manipulative and sneaky, but only to serve his own purposes and never to cause harm or turn people against each other. He wasn't a textbook Slytherin by any means.

Then again, his Dad wasn't either but the Sorting Hat had still wanted to put him in the green and silver. Maybe it ran in the family. He was enough like his father in every other way. The only reason his Dad hadn't become a Slytherin was because he wanted to be a Gryffindor; Albus had no such wish. He got enough of the 'Three Musketeers', as his brother and two pushiest cousins were dubbed by the adults, at home. Not to mention the rather strong-willed Molly.

His striking green eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table at the thought. Fred and Dom were next to each other, with James opposite them talking in whispers to some boy Albus didn't recognise. Molly was up the other end of the table, running her fingers nervously through her newly layered hair, which up until this year had remained in a thick, unfailingly unfashionable bob cut since she was a toddler. Everyone had been surprised when she'd casually turned up at the Burrow gathering with soft, choppy layers and a carefully styled side fringe. Albus had to smile as he watched her badly disguised worry; he had always liked Molly, despite being as reluctant to spend time with her as the rest of his cousins. There was something endearing about her defensive, uptight attempts to pretend she didn't care about the outside world.

Similarly, Albus felt an unexpected kinship with his only cousin from his father's side, Abigail. He searched for her amongst the red and gold, only to find her already peering at him through her overgrown brown bangs. At fourteen, Abby was very physically developed and a little overweight, yet her wide eyes and tremulous mouth were those of a child. James thought that Abby was annoying and mopey, but Albus had seen how gently his beloved father treated her whenever she came around to stay - which had been regularly over the past three summers - and even his no-nonsense, impatient mother often took her aside for 'girl talk' and looked at her with warmth in her eyes. Albus had long since decided to follow his parents' lead and made an effort to be friends with Abby. He smiled at her and was gratified to receive a genuinely affectionate grin and wave back.

Looking back at his brother, Albus started when he realised that James had twisted around and was watching him. His elder brother gave him an uncharacteristically encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. Albus managed a shaky smile in return, touched that James might be feeling bad about his taunting earlier… well, for the last four or five years, really. He'd always reacted badly and denied it hotly when James jokingly accused him of being a closet Slytherin, but even if his brother didn't really believe it… deep down, Albus did.

He turned and caught the eye of his cousin Rose, feeling a little better when she beamed at him. Rose and his Dad were the only two people who seemed entirely happy with the idea that Albus might be in the 'bad' house. His Dad had pulled him aside for a talk at Platform Nine and Three Quarters which had reassured Albus so much that he had blurted out to Rose on the train how he thought he'd be in Slytherin. Although obviously surprised, she had merely shrugged and smiled at him. Even his Mum didn't react so well when he'd confessed his secret dread to her, automatically assuring him that maybe he would be in some other house like Ravenclaw. Albus had wanted to yell at her that he didn't want to be in Ravenclaw; the only place he felt he might belong was Slytherin but belonging there would, he feared, mean not belonging within his family. He'd kept silent though, as always.

Quite unexpectedly, Professor Vector called out 'Potter, Albus' and the Hall hushed slightly as he crept forward. The dark-haired, imposing witch peered down her patrician nose at him as he approached her. Sliding onto the stool, the young boy closed his eyes and prepared for the intrusion into his mind. It came as a mild surprise when, without any feeling of invasion or interference, a quiet and calm voice spoke up as naturally as his own thoughts might.

"Another young Potter. This feels familiar… you are very, very much like your father."

"I know," whispered Albus, who had been told so all his life.

"I was not speaking of looks, although the resemblance is uncanny there too. No, your mind is almost a replica of his at your age. There are differences, of course… you are slightly more academically inclined, he was perhaps of a more reckless disposition… one thing in particular strikes me. Something you have which he lacked."

"What?"

"Acceptance. You know where you belong."

Albus sighed wearily. He suddenly just wanted to get it over with and go sit down for the Feast. He was tired of worrying about which house he might be in. As if it was ever going to be anything else anyway.

The Hat chuckled. "Very well. Good luck, my boy."

Albus opened his eyes and met his brother's curious gaze, not even flinching at his dismayed look when the Hat roared its conclusion:

"SLYTHERIN!"


	11. Rose Weasley

**ICN: Yes, I am a huge Scorose shipper and whilst I don't ship Dramione, I think that Scorpius and Rose would be the Dramione we never got in canon, and I think it would be a glorious simmering love/hate rollercoaster and I need it.**

 _HAIR: red._

 _EYES: blue._

 _WAND: hawthorn, dragon heartstring, eleven and a half inches._

Rose Weasley frowned as she stared at Scorpius Malfoy. Delighted as she had been to finally arrive at Hogwarts, to see its dazzling reflection on the lake and to step into the magnificent Great Hall, once the first few students had been Sorted her attention had wandered back to the silent blond boy, casting his narrowed silver eyes around the Hall as though expecting someone to attack him any second.

She couldn't quite work out why her Dad had specified that she must beat this boy in particular. He was a Malfoy, yes, stuck-up and definitely a little odd, but to Rose he seemed lonely more than anything. When she had run into him at Hogsmeade Station she had noticed that he was conspicuously alone in a crowd of chattering children. She certainly disliked him, with his pointy face and his pointy attitude, but she'd been a little sorry for him too. His hand in hers had felt cold and thin. Still, Rose wasn't prepared to take risks. She'd make sure that she was better than him in every class. Her Dad would be proud of her.

So lost was she in her ruminations that Rose didn't immediately realise she was staring directly into Scorpius' cold grey eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her and she looked down quickly, feeling embarrassed and cursing her complexion. Hugo had inherited warm brown skin and eyes from their Mum but Rose barely showed her mixed background at all; she knew that she was visibly blushing. Deciding that she was wasting time thinking about an unpleasant boy like Malfoy, Rose turned her attention to the rest of the Great Hall.

Her gaze wandered over to the Hufflepuff table, settling on the shimmering blonde head at the front, and received a little wave from the object of her scrutiny. She waved back immediately, grinning. It had come as no surprise to anyone when Victoire had received her Head Girl badge in the post during the holidays. It shouldn't have surprised James, either, when he caught Vic and Teddy snogging at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, as Vic had been unusually mopey during Teddy's seven-month Europe trip and they had both been conspicuously absent from a large portion of the Burrow gathering. James, however, could be pretty dense at times.

Over at the Gryffindor table was the Dursley girl, Abby, whom Rose had met at the most recent Burrow gathering. Albus had mentioned her a few times and had dropped the fact that she suffered from 'mental health issues'. Rose didn't think she'd met anyone with these before and she'd been surprised, upon meeting Abby, that the girl seemed quite normal and polite. Rose had been half-expecting a ghostly wraith constantly on the verge of tears, but Abby Dursley was plump and rosy-cheeked, with pretty red bows in her wavy brown hair. She'd spent most of the party chatting and giggling with Aunt Ginny, who'd gotten very tipsy and ended up perched on Uncle Harry's lap singing the Hogwarts school song.

Scorpius Malfoy's name was called and Rose jumped a little, immediately turning back to the front with interest. He marched up to the stool and sat on it as though it were a throne, storm-coloured eyes fixed on some point in the distance. Rose wasn't surprised when the Hat instantly placed him in Slytherin. She watched him give a small, satisfied smile and make his way to his table, sitting near the front and remarking something to a dull-looking boy with light brown hair and prominent teeth.

She shrugged and turned back to the front. Al was only three spaces from being Sorted now and was looking increasingly apprehensive. Rose frowned. So what if he would probably be in Slytherin? Not all Slytherins are evil; Rose knew that without a pep talk from her Uncle Harry. But Al had always been insecure, growing up in his brother's ego's shadow and not particularly close to his sister. He turned to look at her and she quickly offered a big, bright smile.

The students in front of Al were all very quick to be Sorted, scattering in less than a minute so that all of a sudden it was his turn. The Hat was lowered onto his messy black hair and Rose counted nineteen seconds of Al frowning and muttering once or twice, before he shrugged resignedly. He opened his eyes just as the rip just above the Hat's brim opened, and he was looking at his dumbfounded brother when he was proclaimed a Slytherin.

Albus hurried to the green and silver table, sitting in the first seat he got to which happened to be opposite Scorpius Malfoy. Rose craned her neck in avid interest as she saw Scorpius extend his hand towards Al, actually giving a cool but authentic smile as he did so. Al shook it politely.

Rose spent the next few minutes lost in thoughts of how her favourite cousin would cope with being the only Slytherin in the family, so it came as a surprise when she looked up to find no one in line in front of her. The Sorting Hat had shouted something and a girl was vacating the stool. Realising that she was up next, the wild-haired little girl squared her shoulders and began to move towards Professor Vector. Reaching the stool and receiving the ancient artefact, she smoothed down her skirt as the Hat began to speak.

"Oh, you're Miss Granger's girl. She was a difficult one… like mother, like daughter, I see. You certainly have her brains, and her courage. And like her, you're treading an even line between the raven and the lion. You're rather complex, actually. This could be tricky…"

Rose waited.

"You have the intellect and dedication, not to mention the competitive spirit, to go far as a Ravenclaw. However, you are a Weasley, with all that entails. You have guts and a sharp wit. Hmmm…"

Rose waited some more.

"I think perhaps your similarity to your mother is strong enough to sway my decision. I believe you have what it takes to make it in her house."

Rose smiled. She had known all along, but it was still fun to listen to the Hat dally.

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	12. Lucy Weasley

**ICN: I see Lucy as sarcastic, easy to underestimate, aromantic and pan. For anyone who's into A:TLA, I reckon Lucy would grow to be like a much quieter, more reserved and less athletic version of Toph. I don't think she'd make friends easily, but that'd suit her fine.**

 _HAIR: blonde._

 _EYES: dark green._

 _WAND: silver lime, phoenix feather, eight and three quarter inches._

Lucy Weasley flicked a piece of fluff from her cardigan, staring at the ends of her highly polished shoes as she did so. She could just see the yellowish blur of her reflection. Not for the first time, Lucy wished that she had inherited the vibrant red Weasley hair, rather than her mother's flat, dull gold colour. Mum was rosy-cheeked and smiled a lot; Lucy was pale, with a smattering of equally milky freckles and a rather blank expression most of the time. At least she was prettier than her sister. Not that that was hard.

She frowned at that last thought. She must stop being so mean-spirited. One reason she didn't talk much – in fact, she reckoned that most of the family had forgotten that she existed – was because she knew she'd end up insulting someone without even meaning to. Everyone assumed that she was shy; her delicate, almost frail appearance and wide, watchful dark green eyes supported the theory that she was a weak little wallflower. In reality, she was smart and shrewd and rather cynical for a child, but only her parents and sister really knew that. Her father, who had always tried and failed to understand his younger daughter, tiptoed around her and spent more time with Molly. Lucy didn't really care. She loved her father and she knew that he loved her. They didn't have to like each other too.

The truth was that there was practically nothing Weasley about Lucy. She seemed solely a product of her mother's genes. Mum had always told her that she was named after her maternal grandmother, Audrey's mother, the Seer Lucinda Blishwick.

"I must have been channelling some of Mother's abilities when I named you for her," Mum always said in her faint South African accent. "You're just like her, Lucy. You're in your own little world but you see everything, things that no one else could possibly see. You're so special. You're going to surprise everyone."

The little girl sniffed in a sudden rush of homesickness, scraping her loose sleeve across her nose. Mum had always been so full of quiet understanding, never questioning Lucy's lack of friends or strange reading choices. And when Lucy woke up shaking from yet another bizarre, confusing dream, or randomly spoke about things she'd never seen or done, Mum accepted it calmly and patiently. Dad was nice about it too, but it was obvious that he found the whole thing disconcerting.

As for Molly… the older girl studiously ignored any strange happenings around her little sister, only talking to her when Lucy was not displaying any signs of abnormality. Lucy found Molly's pompous attitude irritating and Molly, now fifteen and dealing with hormones on top of her usual negative outlook, seemed to find just about everything irritating, even her beloved father. Still… Molly had her moments. Like sitting with her younger sister on the train, despite having her small band of friends waiting for her, and awkwardly putting her arm around Lucy's shoulder when a few tears escaped the little blonde girl. Lucy hardly ever cried and she had to admit that on the rare occasions she did, she didn't want to be alone.

Feeling suddenly affectionate towards her sister, Lucy stood on tiptoe and peered at the Gryffindor table, ignoring her cousins. Molly was up the far end, peering right back at her little sister through thick glasses, uncharacteristic concern evident on her face. Giving a rare smile, Lucy raised her hand and waved tentatively. The older girl nodded stiffly in return. Supressing a grin, Lucy quickly turned back to the Sorting Hat, relieved to see that just two people were left in front of her. She just wanted to get Sorted, have something to eat and go to bed, so that tomorrow would come sooner. She was certainly quite interested to start lessons, but mostly she wanted access to the famous Hogwarts Library.

At last, Lucy's name was called. She walked calmly across to the stool, staring at Professor Vector in a way that she knew unsettled people. Vector frowned at her. Lucy hid a smile.

Once under the Hat, she closed her eyes and waited. The Hat didn't disappoint.

"My, my, my…" it breathed. "It's been a while since I've seen anything like this. Does your family have a history of possessing the Sight?"

Lucy let out a breath, relieved that the ancient, all-knowing artefact was familiar with her quirks.

"Yes," she thought, for she knew that she didn't have to speak aloud. "My grandmother was Lucinda Blishwick, maiden name Cornfoot."

"A Ravenclaw," the Hat responded automatically, almost absentmindedly. "She only stayed at Hogwarts for a year before the family moved abroad, but I often wondered if her abilities served her well. You are quite a bit like her, but not entirely the same. I do not feel that you belong in the same house, for instance."

Lucy nodded slowly. She had known for some time how this would go.

"Slytherin is a rewarding house for those who suit it," murmured the ancient voice. Lucy cocked her head, unwilling to be pushed into anything without thinking it through one last time.

Albus was in Slytherin and she didn't mind him so much. It would be nice for him, too. He was her cousin, after all, and he might appreciate not being the only one in that particular house. She had to admit that she had never developed the suspicion with which most of her family viewed the green and silver house. And speaking of her family… well, this would certainly get her noticed even if nothing else did. Besides, she knew deep down that she probably did belong there.

Silently, Lucy conceded to the Hat. In the instant before it responded, she was struck with amusement thinking that most of her family would be expecting their meek, quiet little cousin to be placed in Hufflepuff or something. She opened her eyes so that she could see their faces as the Hat shouted:

"SLYTHERIN!"


	13. Lily Potter II

**ICN: I know that many people see Lily as feisty like her Mum but I just never have, even though that's a cool HC too. I think she'd have a thing for Slytherin boys though, including Scorpius, which might create some teenage drama later with Rose...**

 _HAIR: red._

 _EYES: brown._

 _WAND: pear, unicorn hair, nine inches._

Lily Potter's bright brown eyes peered up at the moonlit, cloud-swirled ceiling and her freckle-smattered cheeks dimpled in a smile. Her family weren't lying when they enthused about the beauty of Hogwarts. So far it had exceeded every expectation she'd had. James, of course, had frightened her with stories of ghosts swooping through walls and dark, creepy dungeons and a malicious poltergeist, but Lily had clung to her other brother's descriptions and had not been disappointed.

Tapping the toes of her gleaming black Mary-Janes together and stretching her small arms behind her back, the pretty little red-headed girl watched with interest as another student was Sorted. She was a tad nervous of the raggedy old hat, but none of her cousins or brothers had ever mentioned it being scary and she was determined, now that she was at 'the big school', to cultivate a sensible and grown-up approach to things. At home she was known as a sweet and sunny but easily frightened child, as different from her mother in personality as she was like her in looks. James had always mercilessly exploited his little sister's trusting nature, telling her gruesome stories about the bloodstains on the dining room ceiling and once even locking her in the small cupboard in the hallway, the soundproofed one that had been created to hide that horrid old portrait of Walburga Black. Lily had cried all afternoon after that; the gleefully vicious and insulting tirade she had endured from the painting far exceeded anything her parents had ever dealt out to her. In fact, her parents almost never reprimanded her for anything, not that she misbehaved much anyway. Ginny was usually too busy chasing after James to scold her other two children and Harry unashamedly spoiled his daughter.

Lily sighed. She missed home already. Grimmauld Place, although much changed in the hands of the Potters, would never quite shake off the creepiness that her newly engaged parents had tried to renovate out of it when they'd first moved in. Still, the family had all grown to love their strange home. Whatever house she got into, Lily was sure that her dorm bed could never be as comfy as her bed at home, with the enchanted pillow that sighed lullabies and the floating, coloured orbs of light chasing away the dark. Dad wouldn't be making her porridge with extra honey in the mornings and Mum wouldn't be brushing her hair before bed. Lily was excited to be at Hogwarts but part of her wished that she would be going home in the afternoons, like her muggle friends from her old primary school got to. It had been sort of nice over the last year or so, having her parents to herself in the evenings without James and Albus fighting or teasing her. Still, she was glad that she had her brothers here at school. James might be a prat but he was protective of her, and Al always had something useful to say when she needed help with something. And Hugo, cool-headed and quiet, would be a comforting presence to experience it all alongside her. Of course, there was always Abby too. Abby's parents had broken up during the previous year so she was often closed off and tense, but in general she was quite sweet and sisterly towards Lily.

Twisting around, Lily caught her quieter brother's eye at the Slytherin table, receiving and returning his slight smile. She'd been surprised when Albus' fears had come true and he'd been Sorted into the green and silver house, but had quickly decided it didn't matter much. James had been much more difficult, avoiding his brother for most of the term and acting awkward when they came home from the holidays. He'd seemed caught between guilty and suspicious and it had clearly upset poor Al, who had returned from Hogwarts even more serious and withdrawn than before. He'd spent much of the Christmas break over at Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's place, or with Abby, whilst Harry had tried to talk to James. The brothers had returned to their familiar old antagonistic relationship by the end of the year but Lily had hated those first, tense holidays and had invited Roxy over as much as possible. Sighing, she wished that her favourite cousin was a few months older so she could be in Lily's year.

Her gaze lingered on the tables, watching Rose argue with Fred and James whilst Dom looked on in amusement. Rose was getting quite pretty, growing into her long nose and attempting to tame her voluminous red hair, but was still a stubborn know-it-all. Lily's eyes returned to Albus and they lit up with interest as she saw who her brother was talking to: a blond boy, regally handsome even for thirteen, who was nodding at whatever Al was saying but whose attention seemed rather more focused on none other than Rose herself. Lily had heard her wild-haired cousin scoffing at Al's friendship with the insufferably self-important Scorpius Malfoy and she'd never gotten the impression that Rose and Scorpius got along. Why was he staring at her?

Lily's musings were interrupted by Professor Vector calling her name. Jerking back around to the front, she paled when she realised that it was her turn to be Sorted. She scurried forward, trying to ignore the predictable mutters that accompanied her surname. She didn't know which house she might be placed in but knew which one she wanted. The Hat was lowered to her head and Lily, tense on the battered little stool, let out a puff of relief as it realised her secret hope, fostered since childhood as she had worshipped her eldest cousin's beauty and kindness.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"


	14. Hugo Weasley

**ICN: Yes, I do subscribe to the 'Hermione as a POC' HC and I actually think of James/Harry and Sirius/Regulus as being mixed race too. Also I imagine that Hugo fits onto the autistic spectrum, though I doubt he'd be diagnosed as he's very high-functioning.**

 _HAIR: auburn._

 _EYES: brown._

 _WAND: walnut, unicorn hair, ten and three quarter inches._

Hugo Weasley watched his little cousin, who was actually two months older than him but had always seemed much younger, try to remain straight and still as the Sorting Hat was placed on her flaming head. Her neat, straight red hair was clipped to the side with a glittering snitch-shaped grip, falling smoothly to her delicate shoulders and shining in the candlelight. She looked calm, even with the small frown on her face.

Hugo was impressed. He knew that Lily must be scared out of her wits and it was unusual for her to display such calm bravado. Perhaps she would be in Gryffindor after all…

Perhaps not. The Hat proclaimed his cousin a Hufflepuff and Hugo watched her skip off to her new table. She settled comfortably on the bench seat and immediately introduced herself to the girl sat next to her. Making friends had never been a problem for sweet Lily Potter. Hugo, on the other hand, was awkward and easily confused in social situations. Everyone said he was a classic Ravenclaw: an academic genius, but useless at small-talk and slow with humour. He was just about the only cousin able to withstand a conversation with Molly, as they were similarly afflicted with a lack of personal charm. This was exactly the conundrum, though; if he was such a Ravenclaw, how was he going to deal with being the only one in that house?

Hugo sighed and once again concluded that he was going to have to wait and see. And besides, Molly might be difficult to get on with but she had found her place at Hogwarts. He peered over to where his irritable cousin was ensconced in an argument with a scruffy-looking, sandy-haired boy opposite her, her uppity-looking friend nodding smugly beside her. Molly looked more animated than Hugo could remember seeing her at any of the family gatherings but the boy she was telling off looked completely relaxed, leaning forward and nodding in over-the-top fascination, provoking the redheaded girl further. Hugo shook his head sadly. The boy was clearly and unknowingly marking himself out for a bat-bogey hex. Aunt Ginny had determinedly taught all her nieces a selection of hexes and jinxes as 'self-defence' and Molly had taken to her lessons with alarming zeal.

A flash of movement caught Hugo's eye and he cringed as he saw James waving enthusiastically from his seat opposite Rose, Dom and Fred. His other arm was slung around his latest airheaded girlfriend, who was scowling at the tomboyish but effortlessly beautiful Dom. Rose was covering her eyes with one slim, freckled hand whilst Fred was grinning broadly at her. Hugo glared at James, nodding impatiently to stop the incessant waving. Sometimes his cousins could be ridiculously irritating. Poor Rose was doing well to stay so sane in Gryffindor, with the 'three Musketeers' gallivanting around embarrassing her. Hugo had to admit that he wasn't too upset that he wouldn't end up with them; although it frightened him, he rather agreed with everyone that Ravenclaw would suit him better. Then again, they had said that about Albus.

The russet-haired boy's deep brown gaze skimmed across the tables to rest on his two Slytherin cousins, huddled together in the sea of green and silver. Al looked a little subdued and Hugo couldn't blame him; apart from the Malfoy boy - whom Rose had spoken of frequently with strong dislike, and whose frown was fixed on a spoon he was turning in his long fingers - his only company seemed to be the fey, faint-looking Lucy, who was gazing at the enchanted ceiling with intense interest. As Hugo watched, she slowly lowered her eyes – green like Albus', yet such an odd, deep green that they might have been a totally separate colour - and fixed them on his own, quirking her lips. He shivered but returned her smile uneasily, quickly turning back to the front.

Just one person left in front of him. Hugo shifted on the spot, stamping down on the fear rising up.

He took a shaky breath as the girl in front of him was called up. She dallied on the stool for almost a minute and Hugo couldn't tear his eyes from her; not only was she quite pretty, with soft light brown hair and wide blue eyes, but he couldn't help wondering if he would have to sit up there for as long as her, his uncertainty growing with each tick of the clock.

Finally the girl was declared a Ravenclaw and Hugo took a deep breath as his name was called. He met Rose's eyes as he sat down, taking some comfort from her wide smile. Rose liked to tease him but she was essentially a very sensible person, so if she wasn't worried why should he be?

"Another Weasley," sighed a small voice in his mind, making him tense. "You've certainly proved a mixed bag these recent years. There was a time when I could place you all in an instant."

Hugo swallowed. "I'm no Gryffindor."

"No?" said the Hat, amused. "No, I suppose not. What are you then?"

The boy shrugged, unwilling to take too much responsibility for his own fate.

"Too late," murmured the Hat. "I can read minds, you know. And you're right."

Hugo opened his mouth to reply, but the voice above his head beat him to it.

"RAVENCLAW!"


	15. Louis Weasley

**ICN: I see Louis as so very gay. Like, not the stereotypical camp caricature but definitely one of those guys who never needed to come out, because his whole family knew he was 100% gay from infancy. Older than his years, too, and rather sarcastic.**

 _HAIR: light blond._

 _EYES: blue._

 _WAND: apple, dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches._

Louis Weasley raised his eyebrows at his sister, who was pulling faces at him along with Fred. Even sticking her tongue out and crossing her eyes couldn't make Dominique ugly. She didn't have the same impossible beauty that Victoire had, but she was still uncommonly pretty; her freckles seemed perfectly arranged across her peaches-and-cream complexion and her hair was a silky mop of red-gold, managing to look feminine despite the choppy punk hairstyle Dom had decided on during the holidays. Maman had been horrified, Louis remembered, but as he reasoned with Papa: if anyone could pull off a ridiculous hairstyle it was one of his genetically blessed sisters. Papa hadn't said a word during his wife's furious tirade, tugging nervously on his own ponytail and twiddling his ever-present fang earring.

Louis thought his sister was immense fun but she was crossing the line with her latest plan: a tongue piercing. Not only was she just fifteen, but Maman would probably blow up Shell Cottage in her rage.

Letting his eyes wander away from his rebellious sister, Louis snorted as they came to rest on his second-eldest cousin, flirting outrageously with a pretty oriental-looking girl. James was such a charmer when it came to women... if only he would extend that charm to his family once in a while. He had drifted somewhat from his old comrades, Dom and Fred, over the years at school – apart from his relationship with them as Quidditch captain and beaters, of course - and the three of them seemed to want to make up for it at the Burrow gathering each year, with unfortunate results for those present. Louis' sky-blue eyes narrowed as he remembered the sneezing powder in his salad. He had inhaled half a bottle of dressing and swore he could still taste vinaigrette on the back of his tongue.

Moving on to his eldest cousin, Louis shook his head in wonder as he watched Molly stifling laughter, pushing at the shoulder of the boy next to her. He still couldn't believe that his cousin had an actual boyfriend. Declan Finnigan was scruffy, cheerful and very cheeky, making him an extremely unlikely candidate for Molly's dubious affections. However, the sandy-haired young man was obviously devoted to his prim, short-tempered girlfriend and she certainly seemed more relaxed around him. Louis, along with the rest of his cousins, approved of anything which eased Molly's difficult temperament. Declan had turned up at the Burrow gathering during the holidays and the whole thing had been much improved as a result.

The Burrow gathering had really been very eventful, not least because Victoire and Teddy had announced their engagement. It was to be a long engagement and Vic had firmly stamped down on her ecstatic grandmother's chattering about venue options and getting that tiara polished up. The bride-to-be was adamant that no plans were to be made for at least a year, although she still found time to inform Louis that he would be required to wear 'this adorable suit I saw in Tatting's' and act as usher. Typical.

Sighing, Louis put his eldest sister from his mind. One of the best things about Hogwarts was that he would be getting away from the protective clutches of Maman and Vic. It was a shame that he wouldn't be on his own in Ravenclaw – for that was where he was going, he was sure of it, if only because blue suited him best – but if anyone was in that house with him, he was glad it was Hugo. Quiet, serious, bespectacled Hugo with his encyclopaedic memory and ever-present books. He wouldn't play pranks or talk incessantly about Quidditch. And they wouldn't even be sharing a dormitory. Really, it could hardly have worked out better.

The angelic-looking blond boy jumped as he was poked in the ribs and turned to see his cousin grinning at him, nodding eagerly towards the front. There were only half a dozen students in front of them. He turned back to smile at Roxy, suddenly feeling a little of her excitement.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his cousin Rose, who had moved to sit next to Dom and was whispering to her. Rose had caught her hair up for a change into a bun which made her look older than her fourteen years. Louis certainly approved; it pained him to see a pretty girl like Rose hidden behind that overgrown tangle of red hair. His interest grew as Dom muttered something back to his cousin and gave her an evil grin. Rose scowled at her but twisted to look back over her shoulder. Curious as always to know everything about anything, Louis followed her eyes over to the Slytherin table.

At first he thought she must have been staring at Albus, as the two cousins had always been good friends. But Al was talking to Lucy. Looking back at Rose, he saw her roll her eyes and turn back to Dom. Louis's gaze returned to the Slytherin table just in time to see a good-looking – very good-looking, actually – boy smirking at the back of her head. Scorpius Malfoy, Louis realised. The snooty, self-centred wannabe seeker who liked to tease Rose and use his friendship with Al to get his homework done for him. Well, that was Rose's assertion anyway. She talked about Malfoy a lot and got very annoyed when Louis pointed that out to her.

Roxy poked him in the ribs again. Tearing his eyes away from Malfoy, Louis saw that he was now the first in line and someone was getting off the stool. He stood up straighter as his name was called, assuming a regal air as he walked calmly to Professor Vector. He focused on Ravenclaw as the Hat was placed on his shining hair and ignored the voice that sounded in his mind, only concentrating more forcefully on where he wanted to go. The Hat must have gotten the message.

"RAVENCLAW!"


	16. Roxanne Weasley

**ICN: Roxy's another one with ADD/ADHD in my vision of her, although I think she manages it better than James ever did. I feel very strongly that she ends up working as a Healer and I have no clue why.**

 _HAIR: black._

 _EYES: dark brown._

 _WAND: willow, phoenix feather, eleven and a quarter inches._

Roxanne Weasley had long since pulled the purple ribbon out of her wildly curling hair and was winding it through her small fingers, staring unseeingly at her cousin's straight back before her. She was, as usual, a maelstrom of emotions: fear, exhilaration, anxiety, hope… it was all there. She had tried to prepare herself for this but now that she was here she could barely breathe through her tension. Hogwarts was so big, so grand, so full of challenges and uncertainty and cousins. She would have to make friends for the first time in her short life. Lily didn't count because they had been friends since before they could remember.

Thinking of her favourite cousin and undisputed best friend, Roxy stood on tiptoe and sought Lily out at the Hufflepuff table. It wasn't hard; Lily was one of two redheads on the entire table and was already craning her neck to watch her cousins. Lily beamed and waved as she saw Roxy looking, mouthing 'good luck'. The dark-haired little girl took a deep breath and smiled back, giving a quick thumbs-up. Things wouldn't be so bad… she did have a lot of family here, after all. Perhaps she would be in Hufflepuff with Lily and they could continue on as before, fast friends who shared everything together and spent as much time with each other as with their own siblings.

But then she wouldn't be near Fred. Freddie, the best big brother in the world, who always made her laugh when she was upset and never ignored her, even when his friends were around. Roxy chewed her lip as she turned her gaze to the Gryffindor table. Her brother was laughing with Dom, waving his hands around animatedly as he relayed some story. Roxy smiled. Dom might seem tough but she was just like a big sister whenever she came round with James during the holidays. James mostly ignored Roxy, claiming loudly that he had enough of his own little sister at home. Then there was Rose, who used to be bossy but was mellowing out a little now that she was getting into her mid-teens. Roxy got on well with her. There was a tall, curvy brunette seventh-year opposite Rose, and Roxy stared at her for a moment, trying to place where she knew her from. It took her several seconds to recognise Abby Dursley. Roxy had only spoken to Abby a handful of times, but the girl she remembered from the summer before last had grown taller and fitter looking, her hair shorter and glossier, her smile wider. Roxy vaguely remembered Lily mentioning that her Dursley cousin had spent the summer doing work experience in Herbology research and had really enjoyed it.

Surveying the abundance of extended family around her, Roxy suddenly felt a lot more relaxed about the whole thing. What was there to be scared of, really? She was no Slytherin and whilst she loved learning new things, she could barely sit still in class and found reading challenging. She was sure that she wasn't nearly focused or talented enough for Ravenclaw. So she'd be in either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor and be happy in either of them.

Straightening up and nodding to herself, the little girl peered up at the Sorting Hat and saw that only a handful of students remained in front of her and Louis. She jabbed her cousin excitedly in the ribs, causing him to jerk in surprise. He turned and raised a quizzical golden eyebrow at her from under his smoothly waved fringe of light blond hair. Roxy gestured towards the front, her dark eyes shining. When Louis turned back to her with a rare smile on his angelic face, her own grin stretched even bigger and she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, suddenly impatient to be Sorted.

Letting her eyes wander over to the teachers' table, Roxy smiled widely when she saw Professor Longbottom trying to catch her eye, a grin on his friendly face. Professor Longbottom had known all the Weasley-Potter children as they grew up but he had been around a lot more for the past six years, since his daughter was born. Roxy and Lily had taken to watching over little Daisy whenever the Professor and his wife brought her over to the Potters' house, gently bossing her around and playing dolls with her. During the summer holidays this was a regular occurrence and, although Lily often got tired of having the little girl around so much, Roxy had come to think of her as her own baby sister. She hoped Mrs Longbottom would bring Daisy to visit Professor Longbottom at school, so that she and Lily could show the little girl around.

Humming the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes radio advertisement jingle, as her father frequently did to annoy her mother, Roxy moved her gaze up the line of teachers, wondering which ones would be nice and which would be intimidating. She jumped as she realised that there was no one standing in front of Louis before her and jabbed him in the ribs again, as he was staring off towards the Slytherin table. Straightening, he glided to the Sorting Hat and sat gracefully on the seat. Roxy wished that she had her cousin's elegance; her part-Veela cousins made mere walking look like dancing.

Roxy wasn't surprised when the Hat called out 'Ravenclaw' after a pause. Louis had said it would on the train and he was usually right. It took her a moment to realise that it was now her turn to be Sorted and she hurried forward, almost tripping as she reached the seat. The Hat was settled onto her frizzy curls and she peered upward at the brim, her small brown nose scrunching anxiously.

"Hmm…" murmured a shrewd voice; the girl jumped. "Hard to tell what would be best… Very intelligent, but impossibly energetic... A logical thinker... Curious... Enthusiastic... A lot of determination... And a total lack of arrogance or presumptuousness. Meaning you haven't even considered that you might belong with the eagle. But it seems to me... that you most definitely do."

And before Roxy could form a mental response, its voice thundered around her head:

"RAVENCLAW!"


	17. Lorcan Scamander

**ICN: I think of Lorc as being very much like Luna in personality but slightly more like Rolf in looks, although the boys are almost identical anyway. I also see him as something along the lines of agender. I don't think he'd care about pronouns though.**

 _HAIR: blond._

 _EYES: hazel._

 _WAND: pine, unicorn hair, thirteen inches._

Lorcan Scamander rocked back on his heels as he tilted his head back, trying to shake away the soft, straggling locks of hair in his eyes so that he could peer up at the ceiling. Unaware that he was shaking his hair into the face of the person behind him, he was quite surprised to be poked sharply in the arm and to have a voice hiss in his ear.

"Lorcan! Quit it."

Turning, he smiled vaguely at his twin brother Lysander, who looked almost the same as him but for his grey eyes, less narrow face, a mole on his jaw and a scowl.

"Sorry, Lyse. Say, do you think this ceiling's always been here? It's very-"

"Ssshhh!" whispered Lysander, for Lorcan had not troubled to keep his voice down and everyone within fifteen feet was shooting the Scamander brothers annoyed looks. Lorcan raised his eyebrows at his brother, mouthed an apology and turned back to look up at the ceiling again, amusing himself by finding pictures in the grey clouds scudding across the deep purple sky. His mother had done that with him as a child and they had spent hours gazing at the heavens, telling one another stories from what they saw there. Lysander had joined in too, of course, but he had always gotten twitchy after a while-

"Lorcan, move!"

Lorcan looked back down and saw a space before him. There were only around five children in front of him now. He stepped slowly forward to close up the gap and heard Lysander's voice in his ear again.

"Stop staring at the ceiling and pay attention, alright?"

Tearing his eyes reluctantly from the sky above, Lorcan looked around the Great Hall instead, trying to place the people he had met from visits to his parents' friends in England. The Scamanders had spent all of the boys' childhood travelling Europe and occasionally venturing into Russia, but always returning to the UK at least once every year to visit their grandfather. During those visits they had usually stopped by at the Potters' in London for a reunion dinner and both Lorcan and Lysander had become familiar, if not overly friendly, with the Potter siblings. Just a week previously they had attended a large gathering at a charming place called The Burrow, where several of the school-aged people there had assured the boys that they need only ask for help settling into Hogwarts, although none of them were close in age to Lorcan or Lysander.

Lorcan was saved from trying to spot familiar faces in the crowd, however, by Lysander's low voice in his ear again:

"Lorc, look. That Lily girl is waving at us. Remember her? Hufflepuff table, red hair, her Mum is our Mum's old school friend."

Lorcan looked in the direction his brother was staring and sure enough, a pretty girl with her gleaming, fiery hair up in a neat ponytail was waggling her fingers at them, beaming, a shiny Prefect badge on her robes.

"Oh, yes, Lily Potter. She was nice. She's a fifth-year, I think. You know, I believe she said for us to sit with her on the train," Lorcan said happily, waving back with his whole arm in the air.

"What?" hissed Lysander. "Lorcan, you mooncalf, we didn't have to sit with those Slytherins at all! I asked you if you thought we should move and you said no! Why didn't you say we had an invitation to another compartment? We almost got hexed after you said that thing about the Nargles!"

Lorcan blinked at his brother, slightly taken aback by his anger.

"Sorry," he said eventually. "I forgot. And I was only trying to help, with the Nargles. He had a serious infestation of them and it was impairing his intelligence, anyone could see that…"

"Or maybe he was just a stupid troll," snapped Lysander. "Not to mention a fourth-year with great big fists-"

"Excuse me," came a pompous voice from behind them. "You're holding up the line again."

Lysander gave Lorcan a furious look and steered him into the free space in front of them. There were only three people before them now.

"I've told you before," Lysander whispered. "You need to have your wits about you now, otherwise you'll get in trouble. Not to mention you need to pay attention in class. Just try to think, Lorc."

Lorcan shot his brother a frown and turned silently back to the rest of the Hall. He knew Lysander meant well but the two of them had always been so different that it was hard to have a conversation with his brother that didn't end in an argument. Lorcan was his mother's son through and through, untroubled by the grievances of daily life and secure in himself and his own ideas. Lysander, however, let things bother him far too much. Lorcan would be fine in school, he knew it. He was smart, despite his dreamy demeanour, and far less susceptible to self-doubt than poor Lyse.

He was snapped out of his ruminations by his name being called. Stepping forward and avoiding the poke in the ribs from his brother, Lorcan drifted up to the stool, giving Professor Vector a smile and a nod as he seated himself. The Hat was settled on his head and Lorcan grinned at his tense-looking brother as it bellowed:

"RAVENCLAW!"


	18. Lysander Scamander

**ICN: It's odd but I seem to have a habit of shipping the children of my non-ships. I don't ship dramione but I ship scorose, and I don't really ship nuna but for some reason I ship Lyse with Neville's daughter Daisy. Only once he's in like seventh year though.**

 _HAIR: blond._

 _EYES: grey._

 _WAND: hawthorn, unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches._

Lysander Scamander was trying very hard to appreciate the beauty of the Great Hall, but he was a little too wound up to do so properly. As always, what should have been an enjoyable time was overshadowed by having to pull his clueless brother out of trouble; in this case, literally, as he'd yanked Lorcan out of that train compartment just moments before that Slytherin boy had cast a hex at the doorway.

He was confronted with the object of his thoughts as Lorcan's hair, longish and blond like his own, was shaken back so it tickled the end of Lysander's nose. Wrinkling it up with irritation, he whispered an admonition to his brother, who turned and smiled at him. Lorcan started to speak in a clear, carrying voice and Lysander hastened to shush him, hating the stares they were attracting. That was all he needed, to be branded a weirdo before he'd even met anyone.

Lorcan looked back up at the ceiling and Lysander glanced up too, knowing that his twin was probably playing the old cloud game their mother used to entertain them with. Lysander had always tried to join in with everything his mother and brother did, but despite his mother's affection for both of her sons, it was clear to everyone that she understood Lorcan better. In recent years Lysander had gravitated far more towards his father, who was eternally understanding and seemed to sympathise with both boys equally. Sighing, Lysander looked back down and saw that there was a space in front of his brother.

"Lorcan, move!" he hissed furiously. "Stop staring at the ceiling and pay attention, alright?"

He saw Lorcan's shoulders move in a sigh but he did as he was told, gazing around the Hall instead. Relaxing slightly, Lysander followed suit. He immediately looked towards the Gryffindor table, as his favourite colour was red and they had it in abundance.

His eye was caught by even more red; a girl he recognised from the group of Hogwarts students he had met at that Burrow gathering was sat there. She looked to be in her late teens – maybe a seventh-year? – and was quite pretty, with an abundance of curling red hair pulled over one shoulder in a thick, slightly messy plait, and a grin on her heavily freckled face. She was smiling at the student next to her, a younger, dark-skinned girl with even curlier hair than the redhead, who was gesturing wildly as she spoke. She appeared to be wearing Ravenclaw robes; even as he watched, she waved a merry farewell, swung her legs over the bench seat and hurried back to the blue and bronze table. Now that Lysander came to think of it, he recognised both girls. His eyes wandered across the other tables and he saw another redhead, this time at the Hufflepuff table, perhaps even prettier than the other one; certainly better-groomed, with neat hair and carefully applied make-up. Lysander definitely remembered that girl, as he had met her more than once and she was always very bubbly and friendly. He pointed her out to Lorcan, who took a moment to respond:

"Oh, yes, Lily Potter. She was nice. She's a fifth-year, I think. You know, I believe she said for us to sit with her on the train."

Lysander felt the familiar fury bubble up at the knowledge that Lorcan had left something so useful out of their many discussions about where to sit on the train. Why did his brother have to be so frustrating? Knowing even as he did so that he would never get anywhere with Lorcan, he whispered a tirade of accusatory words and questions at his twin, who merely looked confused and hurt. Thankfully, the boy behind them pointed out that there was, yet again, a space in front of them. Lysander nudged his brother into it and inhaled slowly, fuming but unwilling to get into an argument.

"I've told you before," he whispered after a pause. "You need to have your wits about you now, otherwise you'll get in trouble. Not to mention you need to pay attention in class. Just try to think, Lorc."

Lorcan made no response but furrowed his brows as he turned away. Lysander found himself wondering if it would always be like this… following his twin around, telling him off and watching his back for danger, all the while knowing that Lorcan didn't really need him there after all. But what else was he to do?

Lorcan's name was called and Lysander went to alert his brother as usual, but missed; Lorcan had already moved forward towards the Hat. Lysander held his breath as the Hat was lowered but immediately let it out again as Lorcan was quickly pronounced a Ravenclaw. Smiling at his brother, Lysander hurried forward to take his place. The Hat touched his head and Lysander clutched the edges of the stool with his fingers.

"Oh, another one, eh?" murmured a sly voice in his mind. "Just had your twin… although, at second glance, I'm not sure you belong in the same house."

"What?" hissed the blond boy. He had not counted on this.

"Oh, no, definitely not the same house. You're clever, certainly, but more than that I see courage and protectiveness. Bit of a short temper too. Traits of the lion, you know."

"What… I…"

"Don't you want to make your own way, Scamander?"

Lysander sat still, his mind whirring. He had never even considered the idea that he and Lorcan might be in different houses, but he had to admit it made sense. And it was perfect, really… how would he ever stop treating his twin like a misbehaving pet if they were in the same dormitory?

"OK," he whispered, tense with excitement. His grey eyes, so like his mother's, sought out his brother's hazel Scamander ones at the blue and bronze table and he managed a grin as the Hat declared his fate:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	19. Daisy Longbottom

**ICN: I reckon Daisy would be a lot like Ginny, for some reason: cute, confident and amazing at quidditch. I think that she and Lyse would clash a lot on the team as she'd be the prodigal brat and he'd be the annoyed older player. They'd get along eventually, though.**

 _HAIR: blonde._

 _EYES: brown._

 _WAND: cherry, dragon heartstring, eleven and three quarter inches._

Daisy Longbottom stuck her tongue out at her father as she waited in line to be Sorted, her small, round, rosy face screwed up and her short golden plaits sticking comically outwards from her head. She ignored the frown Professor Vector was giving her, as she knew that the haughty woman was really quite soft deep down; Dad had invited her around for lunch during the holidays and the Deputy Headmistress had been unable to keep from chuckling uncharacteristically at Daisy's cheerful chatter. Neville Longbottom winked at his daughter from his seat at the teachers' table, beaming with pride. Daisy had wanted to come to Hogwarts early with him during the holidays, but he had insisted that she take the train as it was a 'rite of passage', whatever that meant. She had agreed readily enough, though. The boat trip across the lake had made up for any nervousness she may have felt and now that she was here she was glad that she was experiencing it for the first time with everyone else.

The line shuffled forwards and Daisy tripped slightly, stumbling into the person in front of her. She blushed as she muttered an apology and cursed inwardly, wishing she was as graceful on the ground as she was on a broom. She may have a talent for flying that defied her genetics, but she was very much her father's daughter when relying on her feet. Daisy smiled to herself, wondering how long it would take her to get onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Her parents had warned her about getting her hopes up; Dad had pointed out that it could take years to be accepted, and Mum had suggested gently that the Hat might not even place her in Gryffindor. Daisy had been outraged at that suggestion and had cheekily replied that as long as she didn't get Hufflepuff, she was happy. Hannah still hung her old yellow and black banner behind the Leaky Cauldron's bar and had given her daughter a child-like scowl in response, which had the effect of making the two look remarkably similar.

Biting her lip as she stepped forward in line again, Daisy looked towards the Gryffindor table. She spotted a couple of students that she'd played with at gatherings over the summer, until she stopped at a blond boy a couple of years older than her who was whispering to a boy next to him. She wracked her brains trying to remember where she recognised him from until it came to her: a couple of years beforehand, her parents had invited another family around for lunch and this boy, along with his twin, had been part of that family. She only remembered the occasion so clearly because the family – the Scamanders, she recognised the name from somewhere too – had all been a bit… well, odd. The parents talked about strange creatures in far-off lands and had presented Daisy with a garland of strong-smelling dried blossoms as a gift. She'd quite liked them, but the two boys had been a bit distant and awkward around her. Curious, she watched the Gryffindor Scamander for a while. He seemed more at ease nowadays, chatting to his friend and pushing a thin hand through his mop of straggling blond hair, a bit overlong for current fashions.

Wondering where the other Scamander was, Daisy searched the tables until she found him at the Ravenclaw table, leaning back in his chair and gazing at the ceiling. His hair touched his shoulders and was tucked behind his ears, along with his wand and a mottled blue quill. No one seemed to be talking to him. Daisy's warm brown eyes moved across the blue and bronze crowd. She brightened as she saw Roxy, a sixth-year Weasley prefect who had always been very kind and caring at the few Burrow gatherings that the Longbottoms had attended over the years. Roxy caught her eye and grinned her trademark grin, dark eyes shining and hair tamed into sleek braids this year. Waving, Daisy looked beside her and saw another familiar face; another Weasley from the Burrow, although he couldn't have been more different from Roxy if he'd tried. This young man, with peachy, flawless skin and light golden hair, had barely spoken to Daisy the few times they'd met, being clearly out of his comfort zone with children. However, Daisy remembered his face well because, along with his two older sisters, he was incredibly beautiful. Sat next to him was the Head Boy, who had introduced himself at the station. Hugo Weasley was also familiar to Daisy from the Burrow, although he had been quiet and preoccupied at the family gatherings. Still, he'd been friendly enough and was much more normal looking than his blond cousin, with dark reddish-brown hair and light brown skin, glasses obscuring most of his smattering of freckles.

Daisy ceased her crowd-spotting as her name was called by Professor Vector. Locking her gaze with her father's, the little girl gave him a brave smile as she walked quickly to the stool. She took a deep breath as she sat down and blinked as the Hat slipped down over her eyes. She waited for the voice that she knew would come.

"Ah, Miss Longbottom. Interesting. I had a lot of trouble with your father, you know. Your mother, however, was quite easy to place. Hufflepuff, as I recall."

Daisy nodded.

"Well, it seems that you take after your mother in this case, my dear."

"What?!" she thought, hands fisting in her robes. "No! I'm not in Hufflepuff!"

The Hat chuckled. "I was referring to the ease of Sorting you, not the house. You're quite correct that you do not belong in the house of the badger."

"Too right," Daisy thought with relief.

Another chuckle.

"Yes, easy to place indeed…"

She waited for further comment and jumped as the voice instead boomed out across the Hall:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

 **That's all, folks! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you liked my vision of the next generation. Thank you to FriendofMolly for reviewing all the way through as I've updated! Reviews mean so much xxx**


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